


Pool balls and underpants

by bitsandbobsandstuff



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, Mild Language, Pool Table Sex, Sassy Bucky Barnes, Strip Games, bucky barnes smut, fluff and porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-20 11:29:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitsandbobsandstuff/pseuds/bitsandbobsandstuff
Summary: Bucky Barnes offers to teach you how to play pool, but he ends up in a slightly awkward predicament.





	1. Pool balls and underpants

**Author's Note:**

> Two parts to this story, this first is all sass and innuendos, the second is all smut.

It was a little known fact – you adored dive bars. Everything smells musty? Great. All the tables feel sticky? Perfect. The decor resembles a 1970’s porn set? Bitchin.

It was a complete contradiction to your work persona. Your name was uttered in hushed, reverent tones in the halls of the Avengers compound, commonly followed by the phrase ‘that woman gets shit done.’ Frankly, you worked your ass off to get to this point, so the satisfaction of being known as the one who was always cool, always calm, always poised – it was a heady feeling.

It’s because of your rigid work environment that you gravitated toward the local bar. It was one place you could let your guard down, unwind and relax. Distancing your professional and personal life was a necessary ingredient in your sanity, a dichotomy you actively encouraged.

And then one day out of nowhere, Bucky Barnes swaggered into your life.

That rule-book you had? He lit it on fire. Remember when you could control the room and everything around you? Yep, that’s long gone. He crashed into your world with an arrogant little smile and those wickedly blue eyes, a delicious temptation you tried (and spectacularly failed) to ignore.

Concentrating at work became a struggle. Meeting his gaze without a slight panic was impossible. His flirty little innuendos made you blush every single time.

It was so _fucking annoying_.

Unfortunately for you, Bucky was well aware of the effect he had, and he loved it. So your interaction strategy evolved – if you were going anywhere near the man, it had to be on your own terms, because there’s a very real possibility you may jump him at the first opportunity.

Long story short – that’s how Bucky Barnes ended up at your favourite bar.  
  


* * *

 

  
There’s a rusty whine at the front door, and a tall man steps over the threshold, back-lit by a flood of sunshine. He hesitates upon seeing the drab surroundings, but when he finds you at the bar, a crooked smile pulls up his lips.

“Thought I had the wrong place. Not the scene I expected.” Bucky slides his considerable bulk onto the seat across from you, long legs automatically spreading around you. The logical part of your brain chastises you for subtly leaning in to smell his cologne. The other part of your brain tells logic to fuck off.

Taking a long pull from your beer instead, you give him a shrug. “What can I say, I’m a woman of contrasts.”

Bucky’s gaze rakes slowly over you, taking in the demure black skirt and jacket, settling on the black heels tapping nervously against the bar rail. He bites his bottom lip between his teeth, lips curling in a devilish little grin. "Clearly.”

Reaching over the counter to grab a fresh bottle, you dangle it in front of him with a brave smile. “First round’s my treat.”

He nods his thanks, eyes never leaving you. Clinking his bottle lightly against yours, you hear him murmur under his breath. “Hope that’s not my only treat today.”

 _God dammit he’s frustrating_. You see the amusement in his eyes as he watches you scrambling for that smooth, poised exterior he’s heard so much about. Racking your brain for a subject change, you remember one of your favourite topics, the request tumbling quickly from your lips.

“So, any embarrassing stories about Steve you want to share?”

He throws his head back with a loud laugh, visibly softening at the request, and you breathe a sigh of relief. He’s a vivid storyteller, and you soon find yourself giggling as he brings the colourful stories to life. And right there, when you catch a glimpse behind his cocky exterior, you realise Bucky Barnes is intensely sweet and charming.

That’s just fucking excellent. As if you needed another reason to want the man.

He talks for quite awhile, and at the end of one ridiculous tale involving Steve losing his shoes in a game of pool and Bucky spending the evening trying to win them back, he pauses for a long drink. Picking at the label on your beer bottle, you pluck up the courage for your next move, and voice a thought.

“I always wanted to learn how to play pool.”

There’s a clatter behind the bar when Mel, your favourite barman, knocks over a row of glasses. Turning toward the sound, you see him straightening the glassware, a bemused expression on his face.

Tipping his head back, Bucky drains his beer, and you find yourself mesmerised by a drop hanging precariously on his bottom lip. The dark scruff covering his neck bobs as the alcohol slides down his throat, and when he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, he gives you a wink. “Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent pool teacher. How about a lesson? Just you and me?”

Maybe it’s the slight buzz from your drink, but you’re feeling a little bold, so you squeeze his knee and wink back. “Let’s see what you got.”

Delighted by your response, Bucky leaps eagerly from the stool, hand resting lightly on your lower back as he guides you to the pool table in the far corner, and his obvious enthusiasm makes your heart flutter.

Plucking two pool sticks from the rack, he hands you one, gently laying the other on the soft green felt of the table. “We’ll just cover the basics for now. Might need a few more private lessons to work out all your…kinks.” He raises his eyebrows at you suggestively, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

“Okay hotshot, let’s just see your skills before we discuss my kinks.”

Inclining his head with a grin, he begins. “First thing to know, if your stance is shit, the rest of your game will suck. It’s all about staying loose. Getting in the right position. So, spread your legs for me, put your left foot forward, and relax your knees.”

The way his voice drops with the words ‘spread your legs for me’ is enough to make your breath hitch, as your mind spirals off in several filthy directions. Following his instructions, you spread your legs slightly, setting your left foot forward, and Bucky watches closely, eyes roaming over you.

“Hmm, not quite. Here, let me.” Placing his hands lightly on your rib-cage, he strokes his fingers up and down, before resting them firmly on your hips. You can feel the temperature difference between his hands through the light fabric of your skirt, flesh hand burning hot, metal hand ice cold from holding the beer. His fingertips dig into your skin, and he gives a low chuckle when he feels you shiver.

"Relax sweetheart, I’m not getting fresh. Just being helpful.”

“Right,” you shoot back dryly, eyeing him over your shoulder, catching sight of his dark grin. His hands twist your hips, and his knee nudges your leg forward, but of course he doesn’t stop there. Tickling your waist, trailing up your back, he finally wraps his fingers over your shoulders and presses his thumbs into your shoulder-blades. He pulls gently, adjusting your posture.

“Don’t hunch over, keep your shoulders back.” His thumbs stay in place, massaging delicate circles, and you catch yourself leaning into the touch, before coming to your senses and elbowing him back.

The man is making you overheat.

"Hang on, I’m just – just wait a sec.” Turning to thrust the stick in his hands, your fingers fumble with your jacket before you finally open the button and shrug out of the long sleeves.

Bucky’s eyes gleam as he watches you throw the jacket over a chair, before snatching the stick back. The white tank top you wore had straps lined in lace, and a plunging neckline showing more than a shadow of cleavage. He doesn’t even bother to hide his hum of happy approval at the wardrobe change, before continuing his lesson.

“Next thing is make sure your stick grip is right. You hold it too tight, it’ll go too fast. Keep it too loose, and you won’t have control.” Again, he finds the right word to send a tremor down your spine, his rich baritone drawing out the word tight, and you grit your teeth.

“Question. Are you _trying_ to make everything sound X-rated, or is this just your teaching style?” The comment comes out as a hiss, and he barks a laugh.

“Drop the sass and just give it a try.”

Huffing loudly, you clutch the stick tightly and search for the right finger placement, when you feel him step behind you.

“Mmm, no, that’s not right. Let me help.” His body feels like a furnace when he circles his long arms around your body, running his palms gently down your arms and caging you between his body and the pool table.

“I’ll hold the stick. Put your hands on mine, feel how I move.” His voice murmurs low in your ear, breath warm against your skin, and did you just feel him lick your neck?

“Jesus Christ,” you mumble, heart rate flying out of control. His chest is pressed against your back, and you feel the vibration when he tries to choke back his laughter.

When you release the pool stick, he takes immediate control. He leans down, bending you forward, his hips grinding yours into the table. When he bridges his metal fingers on the table, you’re struck by the contrast between the shining silver and the bright green, before you feel him drag his right hand down the back of the stick.

Well fine. If this is how he wants to play, you’re on board.

Mirroring his movements, you give the stick several slow strokes, before wrapping your fingers around his. Pushing into him, you hear his quiet grunt when your ass rubs against his crotch. Snaking your left hand under his, you rest the back of your fingers against his metal palm.

“What do we do now?” You whisper the words, letting them hang between you, the scents of alcohol and spearmint gum flavouring the air, while Bucky’s thick thighs are flush against yours.

Hearing your soft voice so close forces him to step back, hastily adjusting the rising situation in the front of his jeans. He utters a faint groan at the feel of his own hand, making him stutter when he tries to move on to the next part of his lesson.

“Good, okay. Good. Good. So, um, the third thing to focus on, is your stroke.”

You nearly drop the pool stick. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.”

He tilts his head and grins down at you, gratified to see you’re equally worked up from his little demonstration. “Why do you seem to think everything I say is filthy? What does that say about you anyway?”

He is such a little shit.

“Just finish the lesson asshole,” you mutter under your breath, but of course he hears anyway, his laughter echoing around the bar.

“The way you stroke the stick is important, it has to be smooth. Pull back slowly, use your entire hand, and always give a few practice strokes before you hit the balls.”

“For fuck’s sake Barnes, _come on_.”

Bucky rubs his hand along his jaw with a sheepish expression. “Okay okay, that was too much. Sorry.”

Shooing him away, you pick up his pool stick and shove it into his hands. “Let’s just play, I’ll figure it out.”

After a couple practice games, you find the usual reserve you have around him has disappeared. Your desire to talk shit has also escalated, and Bucky is wildly entertained by your newfound confidence.

After one particularly lousy shot, you drop the stick on the table, turning to him with a sniff.

“Alright, I’m good. So, $20 bucks says I can take you.”

Bucky chuckles as he shakes his head. “No. I’m not comfortable stealing a lady’s money. Sorry to break your heart, but that’s what’ll happen.”

“Are you scared I’ll kick your ass? I didn’t realise what a little bitch you were.”

He holds his hands up in defeat, a huge smile breaking across his face. “And I didn’t realise what a little hot head you were. Fine, let’s do this, but let’s make it interesting. I refuse to take your money, so find something else.”

You sigh. “Fine, no money, I hate to rob a pretty boy like you anyway.” He rolls his eyes at your statement, and you pause thoughtfully, sizing him up.

"How about this. You win – I let you pick an outfit, any outfit, and I’ll wear it to work tomorrow. If I win – you let me do the same.”

Bucky sucks in a breath, contemplating your proposition, and you can see his mind tripping over the all the dirty possibilities. “You’re on. There’s a sexy little French maid outfit I saw in a costume shop down the street, and I’d really enjoy seeing that on you.

You smirk, extending your hand to seal the deal, and he grips your fingers enthusiastically.

In a gesture of gallantry, Bucky racks the balls for you, and offers to let you break. Skipping to the head of the table, you give him a confident wave. “I’m gonna completely spin the tables on you, just watch.”

“Well the phrase would be ‘run the table,’ but it’s cute when you say things like that.”

You set the white cue ball in position, and lean into your stance, fingers wrapping naturally around the stick. Lining up the first shot, your eyes flick up to see Bucky at the end of the table, watching with an amused smile. His posture’s relaxed, and you know he genuinely believes he’s indulging you.

You almost feel bad. _Almost_.

There’s a sharp crack when you snap the stick forward, scattering the balls and grinning when the striped 12 ball drops in the side pocket.

He’s surprised, briefly caught off guard, and you bite your tongue to hold back your laugh.

“That’s – that’s not bad. Lucky, but yeah good.”

You’re all innocence when you look up, feigning a look of happy confusion. “Thanks sweetheart. I can go again, right?”

Bucky shakes his head at the nickname. “Yes, still your turn. No more slop though, you gotta call every shot.”

Turning back to the table you spy an easy shot, so you saunter toward him, poking him with your stick to move away. Bridging your hand on the table, you indicate the shot you want.

“The 11, side pocket.” Drawing the stick back slowly, your firm hit sends the ball banking off the side, knocking in your target.

Glancing down the table, you find another shot. “Thirteen, corner pocket.” The cue ball rolls down the side rail, gently tapping in the 13 ball and bouncing back. You feel a little thrill when you see one of your best shots open in the middle of the table.

You glance up at Bucky, who’s looking rather perplexed. The next shot will completely expose this little charade, but you can’t help yourself.

Turning the stick slightly, you take aim and incline your head toward the shot.

“Double shot, the nine ball in the corner, and the 14 in the side pocket.”

The cue ball flies forward, hitting one of Bucky’s before it knocks in the nine, and spirals off to hit the 14, sinking it in the side pocket. Rising slowly from the table, you quirk an eyebrow at him. His eyes are narrowed as he stares back with intense suspicion, realisation sinking in.

Clearing your throat, you point toward the other end of the table. “The 15 in the corner.”

There’s a small cluster of solid balls in front of you, and with careful aim, the white ball curves gracefully around the cluster, right then back left, before it hits in the 15.

Bucky stands with his arms crossed now, jaw clenched tight. You never noticed before, but when he’s irritated, he gets a small tick in his cheek. It’s cute.

Cocking your head, you give him a wide-eyed look. “Something wrong?”

He stays silent. Hmm. The tick is getting stronger.

“Last stripe, the 10, side pocket.” It was almost too simple, a quick hit and the ball drops in.

The only thing left is the black eight ball, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to burst into laughter at the look on Bucky’s face right now.

“Winning shot, corner pocket.” And in it goes.

Standing up straight, you give your neck a little twist, sighing happily when you hear the joints crack.

Bucky is vigorously shaking his head at you. “No. Fucking hell, fuck this.”

Holding up a finger, you give him a stern look. “Language, Barnes.”

“No way. How the fuck?! You fucking hustled me. This doesn’t count. This absolutely doesn’t count.” He sounds so panicked, and looks so incredulous, it’s comical.

You scrunch up your nose and give him a sweet smile. “It’s cute when you say things like that.”

His jaw drops at your words. Setting your pool cue in the rack, you dust the chalk off your hands and pick up your purse. Walking up to him, you tap a finger under his chin and gently close his mouth. “Sorry sweetheart, maybe next time, huh?”

Stretching onto your tiptoes, you press a kiss on his cheek, and twist a lock of his dark hair around your finger. “But I did thoroughly enjoy our lesson. Really, Bucky. I mean seriously enjoyed it.”

There’s a flash of desire in his eyes at your words, at the feel of your fingers tugging at his hair, and frankly at the way you just completely schooled him. It pisses him off to say it, but that was fucking hot.

“Hate to leave your manhood hanging by a thread, but I’ve got shit to do. See you tomorrow.”

Reluctantly letting go of his hair, you give his cheek a gentle slap. Confidence soaring, you pop your sunglasses on and stride out of the bar, fluttering your fingers in a nonchalant goodbye.

Fuck yes. You’re back and damn it feels good.

“I’ll text you the details, but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll look fetching!”

Bucky stands rooted to the spot, completely baffled at the turn of events. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turns and looks disbelievingly at Mel, who had wandered over to give Bucky a sympathetic smile.

“Sorry son. Thought about warning you, but – that was too damn funny.”  
  


* * *

 

  
You were first to arrive at work in the morning, appreciating the serenity of the quiet compound, luxuriating in the uninterrupted coffee access. Hours pass before the team trail into the kitchen, the morning routine coming to life while you remain on your bar stool, hammering out emails on your phone. There’s a heavy groan and you hear Steve collapse beside you.

“Morning.” He hands you a fresh cup of coffee, unsuccessfully stifling his yawn. “How’d you and Buck get on yesterday? Have a good time?”  
Your fingers hover briefly over the keys, lips twitching slightly. “It was great, we had a few drinks, talked for awhile. Bucky showed me a few tricks around the pool table.”

At this statement, Steve lowers his coffee cup and sighs. “Come on, you didn’t do it again.”

“Didn’t do what? What exactly are you accusing me of Rogers?”

“I think we know exactly what I’m accusing you of.”

Looking up from your phone, you shrug. “Don’t worry, Bucky can take care of himself. It was a _risky_ move, but that’s his _business_. Know what I’m saying?”

“No, I have no idea what you’re saying, but I’ll just assume you’ve found some way to embarrass the hell out of him.” Steve shakes his head in mock dismay, but the look of glee on his face is clearly at odds with his pathetic attempt at sympathy.

In that moment, your ears perk to hear Bucky shuffling in the hallway, and you turn to call over your shoulder. “Bucky! I know you’re out there, get in the kitchen!”

He’s more vocal now, a constant stream of expletives reaching your ears.

“Bucky Barnes! Slide your ass out here now!” At your words, the team all drop what they’re doing and look up expectantly.

Still cursing, Bucky stomps into the kitchen. He’s dressed in white athletic socks, an unbuttoned dress shirt, and a form fitting pair of white briefs. A pair of black sunglasses are perched on his nose, an annoyed scowl on his face.

There’s complete silence, before screams of laughter fill the air. Bucky stands still, arms crossed over his chest, and he tips the sunglasses down his nose. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Risky Business. Nice.” Reaching across the counter, Nat gives you a high five.

Sam’s looking curiously at Bucky, staring intently at the white briefs, when he notices a small ‘SR’ in black marker on the waistband. “Dude…are those your underwear?”

Bucky glares at him. “No. Do I look like I would own white briefs?”

“So they belong to…?”

“Those are mine.” Steve says flatly, setting down his coffee. “What the hell, did you go through my god damn underwear drawer?”

“Fuck off Stevie, where the hell was I supposed to find a pair?”

“Hang on, are you mad at me for asking why you’re stealing my underwear? Jesus. Here I made the mistake of thinking ‘This can’t get weirder.’ Sorry.”

Hopping off your chair, you walk over to Bucky, straightening his shirt collar before leaning up to whisper in his ear. “If you still want to work out all those kinks, I’m ready when you are.” With a playful smack on his ass, you laugh and stroll out of the kitchen.

He’s startled for a moment, before a sly smile stretches across his face, and he whips around to follow, white socks slipping and sliding on the smooth tiles as he chases after you.


	2. Another kinky wager

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As he previously promised, Bucky helps you work out all those irritating little kinks in your pool game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to ‘Pool balls and underpants’, because there were promises made in the last one that just need to be kept. This can read as a stand-alone story, but it will make more sense why Bucky’s wearing Steve’s underwear if you read the first part. And besides, who doesn’t love reading sassy sexual innuendos from Bucky Barnes?

_He’s startled for a moment, before a sly smile stretches across his face, and he whips around to follow, white socks slipping and sliding on the smooth tiles as he chases after you._

* * *

  
You grin to yourself when you hear the hurried shuffling behind you, and a moment later, you feel cool metal fingers closing around your wrist. Spinning you around to face him, Bucky swiftly backs you against the wall, laying his palms flat on either side of your face. His expression is disturbingly mischievous, and you see his blue eyes darken when he touches your cheek with his nose, inhaling the vanilla scent of your skin.

Curling your hand behind his neck, you pull him in, closing your eyes before his lips meet yours.

But nothing happens. The sound of AI fills the hallway.

“Sergeant Barnes, Captain Rogers has just instructed me to tell you he needs you immediately.”

“Tell him no.” Bucky doesn’t move, eyes still closed, lips so close.

“I’m afraid I can’t. There’s an urgent brief that’s just arrived.”

“Tell him to fuck off.”

“I’m sorry sir, Captain Rogers is saying no. He’s also requested that I state, quote, don’t be a dick who starts something he can’t finish, especially when you’re wearing my underwear. End quote.”

Swearing under his breath, Bucky leans back to look at you, beyond frustrated at the interruption. “This isn’t over.”

Gently shooing him away, you give him a wink. “I certainly hope not.”  
  


* * *

  
It’s been three very long weeks. That little interaction in the hallway was enough to leave you weak in the knees, and the ridiculous thing was, nothing  _actually_  happened.

Searching for something to keep you occupied until the team returns, you’re wandering the vacant compound after hours, when you come across the little library on the top level. It’s beautiful, full of old books and dark leather chairs and crystal decanters brimming with expensive whiskey. But the best part? The gorgeous hand-crafted pool table, just begging you to give it a try.

Delighted at the discovery, you grab a stick off the wall. A little practice never hurt anyone, right?

“So are you in here to tempt me on purpose?” His voice makes you jump, and you turn to find Bucky reclining against the doorframe, his hair still damp from a shower, arms casually crossed as he watches.

Fighting an excited smile, you give him a nonchalant shrug. “Fringe benefit. Besides, everyone needs a little practice now and then. Even me.”

He’s still watching you closely, the lust apparent in his blue eyes. “I’m here to officially petition for a rematch.”

“Are you now? I’m  open to discussing. But first, can you do me a favour?”

“I can do you  _lots_  of favours sweetheart.”

You sigh patiently. “Could you please just call my cell phone? I can’t find it.”

He’s surprised by the odd request, shooting you a wary look before pulling out his phone. There’s a moment of silence before you both hear the ring, or rather, the muted sounds of a Jay-Z song tinkling in the air.

> _“I’m a hustler baby! I just want you to know. It ain’t where I been, but where I’m ‘bout to go.”_

Keeping your face impassive, you reach into your back pocket for the phone and silence it.

“By the way, I changed your ringtone. Seemed appropriate.”

Bucky’s nose twitches. He steps into the room, kicking the door shut behind him and giving you a dark smile as he flips the lock.

His eyes run up and down your body, from your bare toes and old jeans, to the loose white t-shirt you wore. “Look sweetheart, let’s not dance around the subject. You know this is inevitable, right? We’re gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Probably so,” you agree out loud.  _Good god, I hope so_ , you agree internally.

“So, let’s make it interesting, maybe a little wager on the terms. What do you say?”

You tilt your head, looking up at him, considering. “I’m listening.”

“Here’s my proposal. Winner picks the time. Winner picks the place. And just to keep it kinky, winner gets to pick the only three words the loser can say when I’m fucking you.”

Summoning all your poise, you struggle to maintain a bored expression, although you’re sure he can hear your heart thrumming in your chest. “Alright. And  _when_  I win, I’ll be sure to come up with three impossible words, in the hopes you can shut your mouth for more than 10 minutes.”

Bucky bursts into laughter at the snark, and all you can think right now is how stupidly adorable he looks when he laughs.  _God damn, he’s so annoying._

“Goal is to sink as many shots as possible in a single turn. Once you miss, the balls re-rack and the other person starts. You can do anything to screw with your opponent’s concentration, short of touching them or obstructing the shot. The filthier the better. Get creative.”

The two of you are slowly moving toward each other, tension crackling in the air.

Bucky inclines his head in agreement, and reaches into his pocket. “Flip a quarter to see who breaks first. You call it.”

You’re literally toe-to-toe with him. He holds the coin on his thumb, and smirks while he waits for your answer. Letting your tongue take a slow circle around your lips, you raise an eyebrow.

“I’m a sucker for heads.”

“Well that’s good sweetheart, because I love getting tails.”

With a flick of his finger, Bucky flips the quarter in the air and catches it on the back of his hand, giving you a smug look when it turns up tails.

“Guess I’m up.” He saunters to the table, twirling the pool cue through his long fingers.

Grabbing the other stick, you trail your fingers up and down the pole, throwing him your best seductive look. “Speaking of  _getting up_ , you know I’ll be happy to help you with that.”

Looking up from the table, he grins at you. “Oh, I’m counting on it sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to try harder.”

The balls break with a loud crack, two solid colours immediately falling in.

“Well look at that.” He straightens up, beaming at you. Strolling around the table, he finds another shot, nodding his head toward the far pocket.

Snatching a glass of water from the side table, you make a game time decision and pour the liquid down the front of your shirt.

“Clumsy me. Look at this, I’m so… _wet_.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and bends into his shot, giving it his full concentration. Setting the empty glass down, you try something different.

Stripping off your shirt, you let it drop to the floor with a plop.

Placing your hands on the table, you squeeze your breasts together, giving him a clear view of your lace covered assets. Biting your bottom lip, you purr his name.

“ _Buck_ …”

He gives a cursory glance up at the sound, and does a comical double-take at the sight. The pool cue slips in his fingers, glancing off the ball, ruining the shot.

“God  _dammit_ ,” he breathes, eyes glued to your chest.

Laughing at the dazed look on his face, you give him a little curtsy. “Guess you don’t quite have the stamina to finish the job. Would have been nice if you’d given me more of a  _challenge_  here, Barnes.”

Gathering up the balls, you re-rack them and move everything into position.

Bucky chews his lip for a moment, contemplating his strategy, before his face clears and he gives you a heated look. Fisting his hand in the neck of his shirt, he yanks it over his head and throws it aside. There’s a jingling click when he opens his belt buckle, and his eyes never leave you as he undoes the button of his jeans and slides down the zipper.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you square your shoulders and attempt to block out the view of solid muscle across from you. Leaning forward, you concentrate on your shot, making damn sure he can see your breasts spilling over the cups of your bra.

And then you hear it. A low, guttural moan rumbling from deep in his chest, and you can’t help glancing up. Bucky has those shiny metal fingers pushed down the front of his jeans, his eyes locked on your breasts, breath coming in harsh pants, while he takes long, slow strokes of his cock.

The pool stick fumbles in your fingers. You miss the shot. You miss the  _first fucking shot_.

_Oh shit._

There’s a moment of absolute silence, both of you frozen in surprise.

“ _So_.” The triumph in his voice is unmistakable. He slowly pulls his hand from his jeans, and stalks toward you. “That was unexpected.”

Fucking hell. How the  _fuck_  did this happen?

“You do know what this means? I. Fucking.  _Win_.”

Oh god, he’s never going to let this go.

“Can you remind me the terms of our wager please?” He’s standing in front of you now, his voice smooth and polite.

“You know the terms, asshole.”

“No, I need you to recap them please. Considering the ideas in my head right now, I don’t want any confusion.”

The quiet whine passes your lips before you can stop it, and at the sound, Bucky’s hands immediately grip your hips.

“Winner picks the time. Winner picks the place. Winner picks the three words.” 

“And remind me, what does the loser do?”

You grit your teeth, infuriated you lost, but so unbelievably turned on at the husky sound of his voice. “ _Everything_.”

“Perfect. Well, I choose right now sweetheart, here on this pool table. And as for those three words?”

He lifts three fingers, ticking them off as he goes.

“One is  _Bucky_. I really love when you say my name, you do this thing where you draw out the ‘y’ and it just…mmm yeah.”

“Two is  _harder_. I’m sure you’ll want to use that often.”

“Three…I’m throwing a wildcard in here. Three is  _hustle_. That’s how we ended up here and I really wanna see what you do with that one. Feel free to moan and scream, I like those sounds too. And maybe let me hear that sexy little hum you do when you’re concentrating.”

He really was going all out on this.

“Let’s get started, shall we? Turn around, hands in front of you.”

With a huff of annoyance, you slowly turn to the table, gripping the edge tight.

He skims his hands down your rib-cage, sliding them to rest at the front of your jeans, and fiddles with the button before he undoes it and slowly slides the zipper down. Reaching both hands down the front, he keeps them outside your underwear, and you shiver at the combination of hot and cold, metal and flesh. Humming in your ear, he slides them back to grip a handful of your ass, digging his fingers into your flesh, and massaging the skin. Nuzzling the back of your neck, you can feel him drawing lazy little patterns with the tip of his tongue.

Hooking his thumbs in the waist of your jeans, he yanks them to your knees, before stepping forward and pushing down the fabric with his foot, where it pools around your ankles. You move to step out of them, but he keeps his foot in place, stopping you.

“Wait. Let’s see if you remember what we learned before you pulled that little stunt last time. I think the first thing was to get in position and  _spread your legs for me_.”

At the reminder of his words, and the sound of his gravelly voice dropping lower, the air leaves your lungs in a rush. Moving your feet as far apart as the jeans will allow, you lean forward slightly.

Bucky reaches up to grip the back of your neck with his metal fingers, leaving his warm hand to trail down your back. When he lands at your waist, he finally slides his hand into the front of your underwear, fingers resting briefly on your clit.

When he feels how  _unbelievably_  wet you already are, he gives a little tut.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you like losing.” He slides his fingers lightly through your folds, gathering the slick feel on his hand and your hips jerk reflexively, craving more friction.

“Is that it? You like losing sweetheart?” There’s amusement in his voice, and he continues the delicate strokes, until you’re straining against him, desperately eager for more. When he leans into you, he rests his chin on your shoulder, and you watch his damp fingers as they drift up your stomach, following the line of your body, until you turn your face to meet his steady blue gaze. A groan falls from your lips when he sucks his fingers into his mouth.

“ _Bucky_ …” You never realised how frustrating it could be to hold back your words, curses and pleas laying tantalisingly on the edge of your tongue. But at this point, everything about  _him_  is so deliciously filthy, maybe his name is the most appropriate expletive you could find anyway.

He smiles around his fingers, his eyes bright as he watches you struggle. Pulling them from his lips, he reaches down to give your ass a quick smack, before moving your underwear to the side and shoving two fingers deep into your cunt.

“ _Bucky!_ ” You whimper his name this time, the feel of his thick fingers finally easing the ache between your legs. Wiggling your hips, you urge him to move his hand, and he complies, but it’s too gentle, too shallow. Every time you buck back onto his hand, he draws it away, never giving you the pressure you need. 

Slapping your hands against the pool table, you let out a frustrated growl. “ _Bucky_.”

“Yeah sweetheart? Something you want to say? Come on, use your words for me.” 

He’s really making you earn it, but you know what he wants to hear.

“ _Harder,_ Bucky.”

With a low chuckle, Bucky immediately picks up the pace, pumping his fingers into you hard and fast, curling and twisting them, rubbing against your walls, finally hitting that spot  _there_ , deep inside. His breath is hot in your ear, and you shudder when you hear his soft grunts as he feels you clench around his fingers.

The orgasm is sudden and unexpected when it hits, and with a strangled gasp, you feel your knees buckle as you slump forward. Bucky twines his metal arm tight around your chest, holding you upright, his fingers still moving as you writhe against him. His mouth burns where he tastes your skin, licking and nipping with his teeth, murmuring encouragements as you spiral from the high.

The aftermath tingles like electricity running through your veins, and when you relax against his chest, you can feel the dark bristly hair rubbing against your skin. Peppering small kisses down your neck, his hand slows before finally pulling away from you, and in a swift movement, he snags your underwear and pulls it completely down, helping you step out of everything before he kicks the pile under the pool table.

Spinning you in his arms, you nearly laugh at the look of pride on his face, before he bends to capture your lips, his tongue sliding against your teeth. He moans quietly into your mouth when you take his face between your palms and tangle your tongue with his. When he breaks the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours and asks another question.

“Remember the second thing I taught you during our lesson? About making sure your grip is just right? Can’t be too tight or too loose.”

He guides your hand to the front of his boxers, and you rub you fingers against the hard outline you find. Humming your remembrance of the lesson, you slide your hand beneath his waistband, hearing his breath catch at the feel of your cool fingers on his flushed skin.

Eagerly pulling down his jeans and boxers in one motion, he kicks them into the pile of your clothes he’s collected. Now that he’s standing here completely naked, it’s difficult not to feel intimidated at the sight. He towers above you, dark hair falling forward as he stares down, and his entire body ripples with muscle, across his shoulders and arms, down his chest, to his thick thighs. Everything is sharp and defined, and simply  _mouth-watering_  and suddenly, maybe you’re not quite as disappointed about losing as you thought.

Swallowing hard, you drag your eyes back up to his, finding amusement in his face as he watches you ogling him. Moving closer, he reaches behind you and unhooks your bra, tugging it off and tossing it over his shoulder. Taking your hands in his, he weaves his fingers through yours and brings them to his mouth, dropping light kisses across your knuckles, before giving you an innocent look and placing your hands back on his cock. Shaking your head with a grin, you stroke up and down, mesmerised by the velvety feel of his skin.

Bucky sighs at the feeling, looking down between your bodies to watch your hands move on him. He’s absolutely in love with the sight, your dark purple nails against his skin, the way you rub your thumb over the tip of his cock, how soft your hands feel, it’s sexy as hell. When you give his balls a tug, he gasps, the feel of it loosening his tongue, his thoughts spilling from his lips.

“God damn, I’ve been walking around with a constant fucking hard on since the moment I met you. And that fucking day in the bar? Jesus Christ. Bending over the pool table with your skirt riding up, watching you wrap your lips around the whole fucking  _bottle_  when you drank your beer, fuck. I spent that entire night jacking off thinking about it.”

His words are so raw and filthy, you love it. You’ve felt the same way since the moment you laid eyes on him, and you’re thrilled to discover he’s been suffering as well.

Bracing his hands on the table behind you, he curves his neck down to your chest, catching a nipple between his teeth, swirling his tongue across the skin. When you begin to stroke him faster, he instinctively bucks into your hands, and sucks harder, leaving red marks scattered across your breasts.

“You know, we really should see how well your mouth can grip.” He whispers as he glides his tongue between your breasts, his beard scraping the delicate skin.

Humming your agreement, you sink to your knees in front of him, looking up to watch his face. His eyes are focused intently on you, and when you flick your tongue against the head of his cock, the reaction is immediate and satisfying.

Bucky’s head drops back, and he closes his eyes with a sigh, relishing the hot, wet feel of your mouth, as you suck and lick up and down his length. Scratching your nails lightly down his thighs, you reach around and give his ass a teasing slap. His eyes pop open in surprise, and he looks down and gives you a wink.

Hands floating to the back of your head, he holds you gently in place while he presses his cock further. It’s clear what he wants, but he’s hesitant to push too hard, unsure how you’ll react. Releasing him, you lick your lips and look up.

“ _Harder_ , Bucky,” you demand.

He nearly swallows his tongue at the look on your face, and when you wrap your lips around him again and groan, the vibration tickles his cock, and he immediately slams his hips forward.

“Oh fuck, please fucking hell, again, do it again, please!” If his cock wasn’t buried in your throat right now, you might start laughing. After all, hearing Bucky Barnes beg for anything is a small victory itself.

He groans when he feels the sound, the way your throat buzzes against his tip, and moments later, his entire body begins to shake, riding the edge so perfectly. But while he’s thoroughly enjoying the slick softness of your mouth, he’s having far too much fun to let himself finish just yet.

“Ah, stop, stop, stop.” He steps back, pulling himself from your mouth and catching you under the chin. When you look up, his chest is heaving, and his blue eyes are dark and wild, a light sheen of sweat visible on his face. Running his index finger over your wet lips, he huffs when you suck his finger into your mouth, biting down to hold him in place.

“Come here,” he mutters, bending to lift you up, setting you on the edge of the table and chuckling when you squeak at the feel of the cold wood on your skin. Nudging your legs open, he steps between then and rubs his cock against your slick folds, covering his skin in your cum. Fingers reaching to tangle in his hair, you pull his face down to yours, giving his bottom lip a sharp nip when he tries to pull back.

“Someone’s impatient,” he teases playfully. Pushing you gently back onto the green felt of the table, he pauses to admire his view, your breasts still wet from his mouth, your legs spread wide. Giving a low growl at the sight, he hooks your legs over his forearms and with a hard thrust, sinks himself into you.

“Oh god,” he breathes, resting his forehead against your knee. “Just – just give me a sec.”

Combing your fingers through his hair, you laugh quietly, and he turns to press a quick kiss to your kneecap, before giving you a wicked grin. “Okay, yeah I’m good. Let’s go back to the last thing from our lesson? When we were focusing on your stroke.”

He pulls out, and very slowly pushes back in.

“Remember how important your stroke is, how it needs to be perfectly smooth.”

Again, he pulls out, lazily pushing back into you.

“Always make sure you take a few practice strokes.”

Slowly out, slowly in.

“Before you hit the balls.”

With a hard snap, he fucks into you, and your back arches with a groan when you feel his balls slap against your ass.

“Slow is good, I can feel  _everything_. I like slow.” He whispers the words, sliding a hand up your chest, his calloused palm rubbing your nipples.

He’s driving you insane, you can feel the heavy ache growing, you need him to fucking move.

“Harder, Bucky,  _harder_.” He smiles happily when you use his word, tilting your hips up and pounding into you, going even deeper in your cunt. The way he grunts with every thrust makes your skin sizzle, the desire pooling in your belly. You love the depth, the way his cock hits every last nerve ending inside you, but it’s still too slow, you need him to move  _faster_.

And in a flash, there it is, the most obvious way to ask.  

“ _Hustle_  Bucky, hustle.” His rhythm stutters, mouth falling open in shock at the word, and when he starts laughing, you can’t help but giggle.

Pulling you up so your body is flush against his chest, you lock your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist to hold him in place. Bucky presses a soft kiss to your forehead before he begins to drive into you, the base of his cock grinding just right against your clit with every harsh thrust. The sound of his rough moans ring like music in your ears, and when he slides those cool metal fingers between you to stroke your clit, it only takes a few minutes and you’re screaming as you fall over the edge.

Bucky buries his face in your neck when he feels you lose control, your cunt gripping him so damn tight, and with a last fierce snap of his hips, he spills himself inside you, your name falling from his lips again and again.

Entwined together, you feel his heartbeat thumping against yours, as you both try to come back down.

Keeping you tight against his chest, your legs securely around his waist, Bucky threads his fingers through your hair, palming the back of your head when he leans back to gaze down at you. Smiling at him, you press your lips to his, and he responds eagerly, with a warm, leisurely kiss.

Breaking away, you sigh blissfully and snuggle back into his strong arms, before whispering his name.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“I want a fucking rematch.”


End file.
